My Perfect Enemy
by MetaphoricallySane
Summary: 'Saw' HoffmanxAmanda. Hatred is still a form of passion, especially between apprentices.


**My Perfect Enemy**

Hoffda

(SAW)

"I hated her. Hated her from the second we met. The way she buzzed around John like some stupid insect, hovering with one hand on his shoulder, like she really cared for him, like she'd actually learnt her lesson. Bullshit. I saw through her, saw the darkness behind her eyes, the scars on her flesh - not scars of learning or understanding, but self-harming. She was scared. She was neurotic. Trusting her was beyond me."

"Of course I hated him. He turned up, untested, unreliable, lying to everyone he knew, and Jigsaw... he _loved_ him. Always checking up on him, making sure he was alright, getting on with work. I tried to get his attention. I screwed with his Games, made them unwinnable. Did he notice? No. He was busy with his star pupil. And yet he'd not survived what I had. He hadn't even tried."

"Fucking hell," she hissed, peering round the corner. He knew neither of them would notice her. They never did. "Look at them. The perfect fucking couple."

She turned away, shut her eyes, leaning back against the wall. The glow of John's make-shift hospital played across the reverse bear trap, laying in wait on the table. Amanda almost laughed. Did she love it, or hate it? It had saved her life. It had ruined everything. It had landed her here, watching her only friend with jealousy as he would always choose _him_. The other apprentice.

Mark fucking Hoffman.

She gritted her teeth and fisted her hands so tight her nails split the skin of her palm. But that was nothing. She couldn't even feel it over the rage of her emotions, tearing her inside-out, constantly.

_It's all his fault_, she reminded herself, took a deep breath, and turned to stride in and break up their little love-fest.

And then he stood in the doorway, head slightly tilted, eyes as cold and guarded as ever.

"Freak," he greeted.

"Bastard," she replied.

He smiled a little. That fake, nerve-grinding smug smile. She saw through it. She read him, knew he was so damn proud to see her squirm, and so she smiled back with an equal measure of acidity.

On his way past he made sure to slam into her shoulder. Once more she clenched her jaw, and then paced in to see her mentor. He didn't greet her. Didn't look over.

"John?" she whispered, her voice almost trembling with fear. His head rolled, and she sighed in relief. But there was a kind of acceptance in his eyes that was new, even for him, like he had just made a decision he wished he didn't have to. "Everything alright?"

He just smiled dryly. But then again, he was always dry, around her, at least. "Mark and I were just discussing the next Game. The next participants. We should be able to start soon."

She nodded. "Jeff Denlon," she murmured, and then lowered her gaze, almost ashamed of having looked at the files without permission. She felt she was always under their glares here. Always doing something wrong. "I had to look. To see if I could help."

"You always can," John answered quietly. But she knew he didn't mean it. "Amanda..." She looked up at her name. She sometimes wondered if he even knew it. "You need to get along with Mark. It will be imperative after the next Game, should everything work out as I plan."

She almost laughed at the notion of his plan going wrong. He prepared for everything, knew everything - but of course, she could never express her respect for him. She just nodded, with a sigh of regret. He noticed, and she almost growled. "Why him?"

He didn't answer, but looked to the door.

"It's set up," Mark grumbled, and Amanda couldn't hide her anger at his return. John glared at her until she looked away in shame. "There are a few alterations that should be made to the Rack."

"It's fine how it is," John answered blandly.

"You're sure?"

Amanda was practically fuming. How dare he question John? How fucking dare he?

"I'm sure."

With a grunt, he turned and left them to it, striding over to the files, casting one more glance over them. He thought of the other detectives; how they'd panic once more when people went missing. How fickle they all were. "If only they could understand..." he murmured to himself, shutting the page over the face of a woman, and slipping the file away. John had said that Amanda wasn't allowed to know about iher/i.

Not that it mattered anyway. After the Games, after Amanda failed, it would all be over, and he would take over. Hoffman would be the one to continue Jigsaw's legacy. He would be the one in charge.

He turned as he heard footsteps.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" she raged. "How the fuck do you think you know better than him? Nobody questions him!"

"Jealous, are we?" Mark replied coolly.

She grabbed his collar and pushed him back to the desk, making the Billy doll begin it's cackle. They were silent for a second, waiting for John to yell at them both. But there was no complaint from his hospital bed.

"Listen, you fucking murderer, if you think you're better than him, you've got a lot to fucking learn!"

"Says the junkie, who despite killing a man didn't even win her test?"

"I killed him, yeah, but he was... _he was my test_. When's yours, detective?"

Her eyes glinted a little, until he grabbed her wrist, revealing her scars, and she tugged away. He smirked a little. "You're too emotional."

"You're emotionless."

"At least I'm not an addict."

"No, you're a freakin' psychopath!"

"You tell me you don't like seeing them suffer!"

"I want them to learn, not die!"

He took her shoulders, about to shove her away when his eyes flickered to her lips. She noticed all too much, but didn't know how to react. There was a manic lust in his eyes, and she felt it coursing through her own veins. She wanted to punch him and kiss him all in one breath. She fought the urge, until she saw the exact same in his expression.

"Freak," he whispered.

"Bastard," she muttered back.

And he shoved her off of him, grabbing onto her hips and pushing her to the wall. She seized his hair and dragged him back with her, watching the sanity drain from his eyes as their lips met violently, nipping and pinching.

"Fuck you," she hissed, and tugged him closer.


End file.
